


Screw the portraits

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: Drarry Dump [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's be honest, it's just porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screw the portraits

**Author's Note:**

> Porn. Inspired by some random piece of fan art or another.

“Screw the portraits.”

I announce loudly, standing at the far end of the second floor corridor of the Manor, hands on hips and smug grin on my face.  I’m certain I look like an utter ponce standing there completely starkers and looking freshly shagged, but I own it and tap my foot a little for emphasis.  He’s still hovering in the doorway of my father’s study, scowling at me in a way that nearly brings me to fucking tears of amusement. 

“Suit yourself Potter, but I wouldn’t linger in my father’s study alone if I were you..”

I flash him a sinister smile, one that merely hints at the horrors my father might have in the way of protection spells and charms.  A moment later he’s leaping out in to the hall and padding after me, I glance over my should and nearly collapse in a fresh fit of laughter at him scampering down the center of the corridor towards me, hands cupped over his bits, nervous gaze flicking between one judging portrait after another.  It was really quite comical; I must remember to drop the memory in the pensieve later for further amusement. 

While the cats away…

~*~

“They’ll be gone the entire weekend, come on, we’ll have some fun.”

I flash him an angelic smile from my side of his dining room table, fresh mug of coffee safely nestled in my grasp.  He’s scanning the prophet while nibbling on a piece of toast, he’s got crumbs in his lap and jam at the corner of his mouth and I can’t help but adore him.  Fucking Christ, what has become of me?

I get my way (as usual) and the matter is settled. We will head to the manor this evening after my parents have left for a weekend trip to Venice, some disgusting story mymother had insisted on telling me over lunch weeks past about how my father had taken her there before I was born. I had smiled and nodded and listened to her gush about ‘second honeymoons’ and other such nonsense, nibbling my watercress sandwich and idly pondering the last time the manor had been vacant.  The rest of the lunch had been tainted with subtle remarks about how little time I’d been spending at the manor, all meant to make me feel horribly guilty of course.  I would never tell her where I’d been spending my time, I loved my mother to death, but she had this ‘thing’ about telling my father everything, so, no secrets for her.

“Oh for fucks sake Potter, come on!”

I hissed, dragging him up the cobbled pathway towards the looming manor.  He was eyeing it like a formidable enemy, which, ok, I get his point, but those times had passed.  This was a perfect opportunity to help us both get over our past demons.

“My father removed the hero splicing hexes eons ago.  I won’t let my home bring you harm.”

I grinned at him as we reached the front steps, the massive double doors sprung open for me at once, recognizing me as one of its occupants. Dipsy was there immediately, looking shocked to see me and bowing low.  This would be a good weekend.

“It’s not so bad, is it?”

I asked quietly; chin resting on his shoulder as he nestled further into me.  He lifted his gaze to the stars and seemed to consider my question for a long moment and my arms tightened around his waist, holding him closer in the chair that we were sharing.  Finally he spoke, but it wasn’t about the manor, it was about the view from the balcony and how peaceful everything looked when it was blanketed in darkness. I smiled lightly but couldn’t help but feel slightly stung; the entire point of this excursion was to have some fun.  I’d hardly call cuddling with a broody Potter, fun.

“Come on.”

I announced, all but shoving off my lap and out of the chair before springing up myself.  I smiled mischievously at him and reached for his hand, leading him off the balcony and out of my chambers.

“Let’s find some mischief, yes?”

I asked, eyeing him sideways with a knowing smirk.  He smirked back and I could feel my spine tingle with anticipation. He did this to me. Him.

We wandered down the corridors of the manor, I could see him eyeing the portraits of Malfoy ancestors warily as we passed; I ignored them entirely.  They were canvas, highly flammable canvas at that. 

“Oh look, my father’s study.”

I announced, pausing before a polished oaken door, fingers dancing on the handle as I turned to flash him a grin.  His gaze flickered between the door and me and when I saw his head shake slightly I knew what must be done. 

“Come on Potter, live a little.”

I hissed, leaning forward and pressing a wet kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling the handle and pushing open the door. 

The room was exactly what you’d expect from my father.  Impeccable and smartly decorated. Enormous oak desk situated in the center of the room, demanding attention; obviously he was compensating for something or another.  _Smirk_.  The walls were lined with shelves of books and other various decorative pieces, the faint scent of cigars and wood polish hung in the air, the entire space was so fucking masculine I could almost  **feel**  my chest hair sprouting. 

“Well?”

I asked, watching him as he carefully circled the room, emerald eyes dancing over the spines of the many tomes that sat perched on the shelves, unreadable expression on his face. He murmured something about leaving and I frowned, crossing the room towards him slowly.

“This is my father’s study, Potter. And he’s not here.”

My fingers found their way to his waist, resting easily on hipbones and guiding him backwards, away from the book shelves.  He was eyeing me with that look, the one that told me I was playing with fire and I merely grinned at him; walking him backwards until his backside met the corner of my father’s desk.  My fingers curled tightly into his jean-clad hips and I leaned, closing my mouth over his.  The kiss was hesitant at first, but hungry; I knew his kisses well enough to know the meaning behind each subtle nuance.  I purposely moved painfully slow, gliding my tongue over his cracked bottom lip, dipping in the well between lip and teeth, grazing over the top of his teeth before delving in deeper and swiping across the roof of his mouth.  His fingers instinctively curled into the front of my shirt and I pressed into him, forcing him more firmly against my father’s desk.  He was reacting to every ministration and I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from curving in a satisfied smirk.  Our lips parted and silver met emerald, one of my brows twitched suggestively at him and then it happened.

That mischievous grin that I loved finally showed itself.

There was no resistance from that point and in no time his was clawing at my button down, fingers forcing small pearlescent buttons through their tiny holes. I could see the impatience etched in his features and I merely smiled, letting him have his moment of dominance before I rightfully took it away again.  His mouth was everywhere, on my jaw, on my throat, fingers abandoning the buttons of my shirt for the buckle and snap of my trousers. True to form he was chaotic and impatient and I quickly got bored of waiting for him to finish the task at hand. 

No more.

I curled my fingers into his waist and forced him back farther, hoisting him enough that he was now sitting on the edge of my father’s desk. I reached up and swiftly cupped the back of his neck, forcing his knees apart and wedging between them and crushing him in another kiss.  This time  **my** fingers worked the buttons of  **his** shirt, distracting him with a frenzy of teeth, lips, and tongue. He was whimpering and stringing half-coherent words together, the mixture of parseltongue and English always had a way with me, and in a moment of unrestrained want I forced him back onto the desk, fingers twisting tightly in his shirt, pushing and pulling him simultaneously so that he was on his back, spread out across the top of the massive oak surface, unsettling my father’s neat array of belongings and sending them crashing to the floor.  He was utterly compliant underneath my command and I loved it, every fucking second he gave me the control only made me want him more.  I gazed down at him; his head sat at the very edge of the desk and as he reached for me, a soft sigh escaped me. His hands were on me, finishing their earlier task of releasing the clasp of my trousers and I inched closer to the edge of the desk, watching him intently.  The brush of fabric sliding over my hips pulled a slight whimper from me and when his fingers dug painfully into my waist and urged me forward, the whimper transformed into something resembling a plea.  My body ached for him and I inched closer, his waiting mouth inviting me, enveloping me so that all I could do was heave a sigh of relief.

I couldn’t help but marvel at the lack of inhibition he seemed suddenly afflicted with, so boldly desecrating my father’s desk was satisfying in more ways than one.   He shifted, inching closer to the edge of the desk, his head hanging somewhat over the edge, demanding more of me.  I leaned forward, bracing myself with open palms on the desk, situated on either side of him. His hands slid up my sides, hiking my shirt up higher and higher still. I tried to watch him, so flawless and beautiful the way his lips formed around me, urging me forward with a determined pace; tongue flattening and swaddling in a way that pulled the most unheeded sounds from me.  My eyes fell closed as I moved, head tipping back, mouth gaping.  He was brilliant and I was close and every fucking time I sink into his eager mouth I unravel a little bit more.

“Harry..”

I murmur, lowering my gaze to breath in the sight of him below me. I scarcely feel his fingernails digging at my sides, later I will make him kiss each one better and I will revel once more in the feeling of his lips on my skin.

“I..I’m..”

I don’t bother attempting proper sentences, he knows my body well enough to know what I mean to say.  He answers with a slight whimper of his own, shifting closer and taking even more of me.  I stifle a guttural sound as my eyes travel over him, the sight of him spread so openly below me, willingly, just for me. I can’t help but touch him, his pale skin is moist and sticky with a light sheen of sweet and I revel in the slight whimper that escapes him as my fingers disappear into the front of his jeans. 

It’s all going to end sooner than I want it to, I can feel the burn in my chest as it pools in my abdomen, and my hand is matching him in movement, each gentle stroke precise.  He’s whimpering around me, the vibration in his throat nearly sends me into oblivion and my pace quickens, needy with want and desire.   When I can’t restrain myself anymore I simply let go, rutting forcefully against him, head tossed back as a loud cry of his name passes over my lips.  It doesn’t take much more than that for him and I smile through panted breaths as he writhes under my touch. 

It’s fucking perfect.

“Come here,”

I growl, urging him up into a sitting position and closing my mouth over his. I can taste myself all over his tongue and lips and my insides itch with fresh desire.  It takes little effort to rid him of his clothing, and before he’s even come down I’m ready to devour him again.  He presses fingertips into my chest and murmurs against my lips, finally shedding me of my button down and tossing it aside.  “Not here,” he whispers, pulling back to eye me with an expression that promises so very much.  I want to protest, to tell him there is nothing I want more than to fuck him senseless atop my father’s desk but I resist, flashing a smirk of my own as I step out of my already sunk trousers. 

“Fine, have it your way..”

I announce, backing towards the door and beckoning him to follow with a crooked finger.  He hisses something about the portraits as I fling open the door and I offer him a smug grin as I step out into the corridor sans clothing.

“Screw the portraits!”

I say, and head off towards my chambers, knowing he’s never far behind..


End file.
